And the battle was won
by Wandering-Starlight
Summary: just another fic to fill that lovely 19 year gap that J.K Rowling left all us fans to fill with our own imaginations. Basically, this is what i think happened starting right after the battle at Hogwarts : rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

The silence seeped through the cracks in the walls and the piles of rubble that had once made up the most magnificent castle she had ever seen. The silence was eerie, like a stark reminder of all that had been lost, a sudden contrast to the loud battle cries that had flooded the castle only hours before. The tumbled pillars and broken staircases, the dust that still filled the air and the stench of sweat and blood, all mixed together to form a horrifying memento of the event which had just occurred.

Then again she thought, as the dust began to fill her chest and make her splutter, it wasn't as bad as what she had just left behind. The great hall. Once filled with laughter and happy memories, would now and forever, be associated with the rows upon rows of dead. Those she had known and those she had not, either way it was terrible. And the tears. The loud sobbing of the friends, the families. She couldn't face it anymore, she had to leave.

And leave she did. Out of the battered great hall, and into the crumbling entrance hall. Up the staircases, past blood stains and rubble, past wand blasts and the occasional small fire that still blazed here and there. But she just kept walking and walking and walking, keeping her mind blank the whole while so as not to allow the deluge of horror that she felt in the pit of her belly, to grow and to spread. So as not to let in the memories...

But then it happened. Just as she turned a corner into an unlit corridor and took in the sight of the rubble that lay across the passage and the charred hole in the right hand wall. Fred. It hit her at once. Fred was gone, and this was where he died. She had just left his body, just five minutes before, surrounded by his family. Mrs Weasley, weeping into the soaking wet shoulder of Mr Weasley, clinging to him as their world shattered. Bill, who had a tight hold of Fleur. Percy standing with Charlie, both trying to be strong, if only for their mother and little sister, who clung to Harry's arm with silent tears rolling down her face. And George, who knelt by his twins head, his face contorted in grief as he stared at the shockingly red hair of his dead brother, but not crying, never crying. Then Ron, Ron whom she was now certain she loved. The pain in his pale blue eyes, the scratches that adorned his face and the dirt that stretched from head to foot. Ron.

She turned quickly and hurried to the nearest staircase and there she sat as she waited for her chest to stop pounding and the dizziness in her head to slow. She had nearly lost him. Just when she realised how much he meant to her, she nearly lost him. It could have been him crushed by that wall, blasted by that explosion, he was so close when it happened. She began to sob her shoulders shaking violently. She sobbed for everyone, Fred, Tonks, Lupin, even Collin.

'Monie?'

She looked up and there he was. The tall, gangly red headed man now covered in so many bruises and so must dust that it was almost impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. He looked terrible, but then again, she probably did too. But he was alive and that was all that mattered.

Ron sat down next to her and pulled her into his arms. He smelt like sweat, blood and that familiar, comforting Ron smell that he had somehow managed to maintain even though he hadn't washed in days. They stayed like that for some time, Hermione curled into his lap as he gently stroked her hair, both of them gently crying, taking comfort in each other's presence.

'We should get some sleep.' Ron finally spoke

Hermione nodded starting to stand. Then she paused. Where were they going to sleep? She wasn't going to pitch the tent on the sweeping grounds of Hogwarts, not on the battle field. The Room of Requirement was destroyed, Crabbe had seen to that. But now Ron was standing too and he reached out for her hand and began to lead her up the staircase.

'Everyone's in Gryffindor tower.' He said 'no-one wanted to go home and their all exhausted.'

They slowly began to wind their way up to Gryffindor tower, it was slow going, as they had to scramble over fallen rocks and take a detour or two because of the destroyed staircases. When they reached the portrait of the fat lady she simply swung open.

'No need to worry about the password tonight.' She said to them solemnly as they clambered through the hole her portrait had reviled.

Gryffindor common room was mostly unchanged. The walls still bore the same scarlet and gold banners. There were still desks pushed up against the windows of the circular room and the comfortable sofas and armchairs still crowded round the roaring fire that sat in the grate. It was bizarre, to enter this room, still so cosy and perfect after the dark, dusty wreck that was the corridors of Hogwarts.

Mr and Mrs Weasley were lying together on the sofa, they could still hear Mrs Weasley's weeping but Arthur looked up as they entered the room. His face was worn and the tear tracks were evident on his cheeks while his eyes were puffy and red.

'Go get some sleep you two.' He said quietly

Hermione grasped Ron's hand tightly as they made their way over to the doors that would lead them to their separate dormitories.

'Ron.' She whispered 'I don't want to be alone tonight.'

'Me neither Mione.' He whispered back clutching her hand even tighter.

They looked at each other, she saw the fear and desperation in his eyes and led him over to the door to the boys dormitories. She pulled it open and led him up the stairs into the 7th year boys dormitories. She was surprised to find it empty. Harry must be with Ginny and Neville might have gone home, but she thought this unlikely, he was probably still down in the great hall, helping anyone who needed it. It was funny, Hermione thought, that the small chubby forgetful boy who carried around a toad for most of the years she had known him, had become such a warrior, so brave and determined, such a leader. They had all changed since first year though. She no longer had rabbit teeth, studying wasn't her everything and she had friends, best friends and a... what was Ron? Her boyfriend? Maybe. But now wasn't the time to work out these things. Instead, she pulled Ron over to his bed and sat down on the edge.

Ron half smiled. Pulled off his shoes, pulled back the bed covers, and watched as Hermione tugged her ripped jumper over her head and hauled off her shoes. She then turned around and snuggled under the bedclothes herself. He held her tightly to him, kissed her lightly on the forehead and slowly drifted to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi guys,

Thanks for the awesome reviews, glad you all liked it so much :) Figured I would squeeze in a quick update whilst hiding from all the relatives milling around the house!

Hope you enjoy.

...

The first thing she noticed as she began to wake the next morning was how incredibly cosy and warm she felt. It felt like heaven. If heaven was wrapped in a thick, squishy blanket and was heated by a large... something. A large something? She opened her eyes. Orange. That was what greeted her, a mass of floppy orange hair. Ron. But what was Ron doing in her bed? It was then that she noticed the arm circling her waist, pulling her towards the man sleeping beside her.

He Kissed me. She thought. Or I kissed him. Both. She gasped. She remembered now, her and Ron, Harry, breaking into Greengotts, flying across half the country on the back of a dragon, hunting down the horcruxes. Voldemort, the battle and, and Fred! Fred had died. She remembered it all and the pain began to make her eyes water once again. She huddled back into Ron's side taking comfort from his peaceful form.

She just lay there for a few minutes, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm herself and prevent the inevitable tears. She rested her head on Ron's chest, soothed by the steady up and down movement that meant he was ok, he was breathing, he was alive. And if Ron was ok then so was she.

He began to stir now, slowly opening his eyes, he blinked a few times as the sunlight pouring in from in-between the open scarlet curtains that covered the window beside his bed, hit his eyes. The sunlight was warm, it was warming his face, his toes and in fact, all of him. But no. That wasn't the sunlight, he gradually realised. Sunlight doesn't have bushy brown hair or an arm to wrap round his waist or a leg to become muddled with his own. No, sunlight didn't have these things, but Hermione did. Hermione was curled up beside him, breathing erratically and if he was not mistaken, creating the small wet patch that was seeping through his battered t-shirt and dampening his skin. He turned his head and lightly kissed her on the forehead, pulling her even closer into him. She looked up at him; the tear tracks evident having cut their way through the grime that covered both of their faces.

'Ron.' Was all she said, in a small voice, but it was enough and he too found his own blue eyes filling with salty tears. They stayed that way for a while. Both crying, both clinging on to the other.

'What time is it?' Hermione finally asked once their tears had subsided.

Ron looked to his left where his bedside table stood. There was nothing on it. Of course there wasn't he thought to himself. So he looked down at his wrist instead, but his watch was gone. Probably fell off during the battle or was lying in some deep, dark depth of Greengotts.

'I have no idea. We should probably get up anyway. It must be early afternoon at least.' He replied.

She nodded and began to untangle her limbs from his and stand up. He looked up at her as he pulled back the bed covers to let himself out. She was covered in cuts and scrapes, her hair was matted and blood and dirt still covered her, but worse was the bruises, somehow more of the bluish purple splats had appeared overnight. He sighed. He was sure he looked just as bad, but there was something about seeing Hermione looking like that, so in pain, so vulnerable. I made him shiver, thinking about how close he had come to losing her last night.

'What?'

He realised he had been staring and shook his head. 'Nothing.' He said 'come on, let's go find the others.'

He headed towards the door; she swiftly followed him as he took her hand and led them down the spiral staircase. At the bottom of the staircase, they paused. It was silent in the common room, the fire had long since gone out and the air was now slightly chilly. Mr and Mrs Weasley had vacated the sofa closest to the fireplace and now, in their place, lay Harry and Ginny. Hermione quickly looked up at Ron's face. He was, unsurprisingly, scowling.

'Oi wanker!' he said whacking Harry round the head.

'Ron!' Hermione interjected.

Harry groaned sitting up, waking Ginny as he did so. 'What mate?' he asked.

'You know perfectly well wh...' he started.

'Oh piss off Ronald!' Snapped Ginny groggily, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Ron glared at her and had just opened his mouth to say something, probably equally unpleasant, when the portrait hole swung open to reveal Bill and Fleur. They both looked ragged. Their clothes were ripped and there were cuts and bruises visible upon their arms. They halted taking in the scene before them.

'What's going on?' Bill questioned the group.

'Nothing.' Replied Ginny, who was now standing opposite Ron, hands on her hips and a very Mrs Weasleyish glower had contorted her features. She shot a warning look at Ron.

'Yeah, nothing.' He stated quickly turning away from his sister and Harry and instead looking at the suspicious expression that Bill held.

'Ok then.' Bill said uncertainly. 'Mum wants you all home by the way. She sent us to wake you.'

Home. The Burrow. For a short moment Ron's heart soared and then fell back down to earth with a large bump. They were going home, but Fred wasn't. Fred would never again walk through that kitchen door, never laugh with his twin as the invented, never fall in love, and never again appear on the family's magical clock. What would happen to his hand now, would it have to be removed or would it just vanish, straight into nothingness, just like Fred himself, just like his life? All gone in the blink of an eye, the tick of a second hand, a blast of light.

'Ron?' it was Hermione. She took his hand in hers. 'Are you ok?'

He nodded. 'Yeah, I'm fine.' He said looking into her eyes.

No one else had noticed his moment or his and Hermione's brief exchange. Bill was now throwing Harry a small red bag with a scarlet F embroidered on the side. Floo powder. The Family bag, he would recognise it any day. Harry nodded, opened the bag and pulled out a handful of the silvery powder. He passed the bag to Ginny who took a handful of the powder herself, before throwing it in Hermione's direction. Together Harry and Ginny stepped forward into the fireplace, dropped the powder and clearly yelled, 'The Burrow.' They were gone.

Hermione too, opened the bag, took a handful and offered it to Ron. He took a handful and she placed the bag gently onto the small table that sat between the squishy red sofa and the empty fireplace. They stepped into the grate, stated their destination, and were sucked into the tight, green whirlwind that is the floo network.


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly the green began to fade and the crushingly claustrophobic feeling began to subside as they were spat out onto the ancient brown rug that surrounded the hearth in the Weasley's kitchen. They stood up, brushing the black soot from their clothes and looked around. No one was there. The kitchen was deserted, apart from a bushy ginger cat with a squashed up nose, who wound its way around Hermione's legs, purring loudly as it did so. The only other sound in the room was that emanating from the vicinity of the kitchen sink, where a large scrubbing brush was working its way through the stack of pots and pans evidently abandoned the night before as Mr and Mrs Weasley had hastily answered the summons of both the Order and the DA.

'Hello there Crookshanks.' Hermione cooed, bending down and scooping the fur ball into her arms. 'Where is everyone then?' she asked the cat. The cat, in response, simply continued to purr.

Just then, a head poked its way around the kitchen door. 'Oh, it's you two.' Stated Charlie's voice.

'Nice to see you too.' Ron quipped scowling at his older brother.

'Sorry Ron. I just heard voices and thought you might be Bill and Fleur.'

'Sorry to disappoint.' Retorted Ron

Charlie just frowned at him, opened the door and headed towards the kettle. 'Tea?' He asked looking questioningly at them both.

'Yeah, go on then.' Ron answered

He looked over at Hermione who was still cradling Crookshanks. 'Please.' She said

Charlie nodded, picked up the kettle and filled it with water from the kitchen sink. He then placed it on the stove, lit the small flame that would slowly heat the water and took a seat at the long wooden table that sat in the centre of the room. Ron grabbed three mugs and a tea bag and sat down opposite his brother. Hermione placed Crookshanks on a nearby armchair and took a seat next to Ron.

'So,' she started. 'Where is everyone?'

Charlie paused, ' Percy's gone to the ministry. .Harry and Ginny went for a walk out in the garden, I think. Said they couldn't stand the atmosphere.'

Ron and Hermione nodded, they could understand that. There was something depressing about the house at the moment. It might have been the silence, they were so used to this being a happy place, one filled with noise and laughter, yet now, it felt almost eerie. However, the feeling could most likely be attributed to the sadness that seeped through the walls. Coming in crushingly from every direction, settling its self into the heart and mind of every person in the house.

'George is in his room.' Charlie continued in a soft voice. 'He came home and went straight up there. I haven't seen him since. Nobody has...' he trailed off a concerned expression beginning to mix with the sad one that was already there. He shook his head as if to clear it of something. 'And Dad took Mum up to bed. Neither of them really said anything. Mum barely said a word, pointed her wand at the washing up and asked Bill to get you lot. Dad wasn't much better. He just grabbed a bottle of Fire whiskey on his way up stairs.'

Nobody said anything. Ron took Hermione's hand under the table, as much to comfort himself as to comfort her. The three of them sat in silence for a while. The kettle began to whistle and Hermione stood, gently letting go of Ron's hand, to take it off the stove and poor the boiling water into the three awaiting mugs. Just then, a ball of green flames erupted into fireplace, and Bill and Fleur fell onto the battered rug, that Ron and Hermione had fallen onto shortly before.

'Hi.' Said Bill standing up and offering a hand to hi wife. She took it gratefully, smiling up at him in that dazzling way of hers.

'Thankyou Bill.' She said in her strong French accent.

'Tea?' Hermione asked the pair, gesturing to the freshly brewed pot of tea beside her.

Bill nodded. 'Yeah, that'd be great.'

'Yes. Thankyou Hermione, that would be lovely.' Said Fleur flashing her a smile.

Hermione smiled back, reaching opening a cupboard door to find two more mugs. She had never much liked Fleur, she was too giggly, too girly, too much like Lavender Brown and Pansy Parkinson! Oh, who was she kidding? None of that stuff had ever truly bothered her. No, what bothered her most was how Ron had looked at her, how he'd gawked at her, how he'd asked Fleur to the Yule ball instead of her! But none of that mattered anymore, he was hers. At least she hoped he was. She made a mental note to ask him about that later.

Hermione quickly made up the tea and handed it around. When she was done, she sat back down next to Ron and took his hand again. He smiled at her. He was glad she was here; somehow, her presence was keeping him from losing his head completely. She was keeping him steady. Keeping him a float.

They were a solemn party. Even after Harry and Ginny returned from their walk and joined the large group at the table. Hermione gave Harry a pointed look as he slyly shuffled his seat very slightly closer to Ginny's, it quite plainly said, 'you and Ginny?' Harry nodded and shrugged. His eyes flit between Ron and Hermione and raised his eyebrows, 'and you two?' he was clearly saying. Hermione blushed and nodded. Their silent exchange had gone unnoticed, all four Weasleys and Fleur were deeply involved in some Quiditch discussion that Hermione did not understand, and neither did Fleur apparently, as her expression was steadily getting more and more confused.

After a while, the group moved into the Burrow's sitting room, where Bill beat everyone in a long game of exploding snap and Charlie challenged Ron to a highly exiting chess match, which Ron eventually won, much to his delight. Throughout the afternoon, people steadily peeled off to make use of the number of showers that the Burrow contained, after Fleur pointed out that they all looked hideous.

Hermione relished the hot water. She hadn't had a shower like this in months. Not since they'd left number 12 Grimmauld Place. Sure she'd washed, but using spells or any rivers or ponds that they had come across whilst hunting for horcruxes, but those had been short and freezing. She took her time, letting the warm water run over her body and making use of the sweet smelling shampoos and shower gels lent to her Ginny and Fleur. She stepped out of the bathroom feeling perfectly rejuvenated and bumped straight into a freshly scrubbed Ron.

'Hello' he said

'Hi.' She replied shyly. Why was she shy? It was just Ron. Except that he wasn't just Ron anymore. He was RON and he was standing there wearing just a pair of jeans. When did he get those muscles? If his chest was so good, then what else had she been missing out on? She blushed at the thought.

'You ok?' he asked

'Yeah.' She said distractedly. 'Nice shower?'

'Lovely. Would have been better if you were there.' Somehow she managed to blush even harder at this. 'Merlin's balls. Did I just say that out loud?' he gasped, his own face turning a brilliant red.

'Uh hu.' She said giggling slightly. Giggling? Did she actually just giggle?

'Shit. Er, forget I said that ok.'

Hermione nodded. They were silent for a while, she looked up at him and he slowly lent in towards her. There was that tingle of energy again. The one that had sparked the sudden kiss in the midst of the battle. It flickered between them, pulling them steadily together, making the rest of the world disappear all together. They were centimetres apart now.

Thump! They leapt apart as Mr Weasley opened his bedroom door and stepped out onto the landing. He was quickly followed by Mrs Weasley whose eyes still seemed slightly red. Fred. They were swept back into reality. Fred was dead. Here were his parents, trying deal with the loss of a child. Ron looked at his parents. The moment between him and Hermione was lost and his loss suddenly felt incredibly real. His eyes swelled. He caught himself. Pulled himself together and crossed the few paces to his mother and wrapped his arms around her.

She gasped. 'Oh Ronnie.' She said weakly. Ron wasn't normally much of a hug sort of person. He moaned frequently about his mothers fuss and all her hugging and kissing. Yet here he was. Offering it. He had changed. He'd grown up. Mrs Weasley could see it in his eyes when he let her go. There was pain and suffering in those blue eyes, but there was also love and strength, which was what the family needed most right now.

As Ron released her, Mrs Weasley spoke with a slight tremor, 'I'm going to go make dinner now. Hermione,' she turned towards Hermione who was standing by the bathroom door watching the touching scene before her, 'would you give me a hand?'

'Sure thing Mrs Weasley.' Said Hermione, giving her a small, sad smile.

They all turned and started to head towards the wooden staircase. Mr Weasley paused and looked at his youngest son. 'Er Ron,' he started 'you might want a shirt. Unless there's a reason you're not wearing one...' he glanced at Hermione. She didn't notice, having already started down the stairs following Mrs Weasley. His glance gave Ron the impression that this dad knew exactly what had been going on before he opened the door. He blushed.

'I'll get a shirt.'

'Oh and Ron.' Mr Weasley called as Ron turned towards the first set of stairs that led to his attic bedroom. ' Ask George to come down would you?'

Ron nodded.

His bedroom was exactly how he had left it. It was still garishly orange; the chuddly cannons poster still adorned the wall above his chuddly cannons bedspread. The camp bed that Harry always slept on was still there, still as unmade as the day of Bill and Fleur's wedding. There was even still an old discarded sock poking out from under the wardrobe in the corner of the room, whilst an old daily profit lay yellowing on his bedside table. He glanced around, then hurriedly opened his wardrobe grabbed a t-shirt and yanked it over is messy orange hair, still slightly damp from his shower.

Ron left his room and headed back down the short set of steps onto the small landing. Ginny's room was opposite; she had decorated it when she was younger, covered it in pictures of flowers, there was a picture of Gwenogg Jones, clearly torn from the pages of a Quidditch magazine, and across the middle of the door was her name, she had written it herself, using some glittery muggle pens that Dad had gotten once. Ron smiled at the memory, he remembered a much smaller Ginny, she must have been eight, nine, still cute anyway, and when Dad gave her these pens, she was like a small child let loose in Honeydukes.

Ron turned to his left, his smile faded. Here was Fred and Georges room. They had kept their decoration pretty minimal, just their names in big bold lettering and a couple of firework images that flashed and shone like the real thing, but without the noise. Ron knocked on the door.

'George?' he called tentatively. George didn't answer. 'George?' he called again, louder this time. Still no answer. Ron slowly edged the door open and stepped inside. No George.


	4. Chapter 4

Hi guys,

another update finally :) last day of my summer today and I seem to have spent it writing the history essay that I neglected all holiday and writing this for you all, not that that's actually a bad thing :) hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think :)

...

No George. Ron stood there in silence taking in the empty room. He hadn't seen the inside of the twins room in nearly a year, not since before the wedding and it felt strange to be there without his brothers' laughter, without the strange smell of smoke or the sound of odd bangs. There was a thick layer of dust covering the top of the dresser and both beds were still neatly made, clearly by Mrs Weasley; the twins would never have bothered with that. Stacks of parchment still lay on the desk beside the window, on closer inspection Ron realised that they were old order forms, from back when Fred and George had been running Weasley's Wizard Wheezes out of their bedroom. Before their dramatic exit from Hogwarts, before they bought the shop and before they moved into the small apartment above it. No one had been in here in months. So where was George?

Ron turned around and headed towards the stairs. He couldn't tell his family. He couldn't make them worry. Not on top of everything. No. He had to find George himself. There were several places he could be. The shop, his apartment, the leaky cauldron, Lee Jordan's? But his search would have to wait until after dinner. His disappearance would defiantly be noticed at a mealtime!

He forced the look of concern off his face as he approached the kitchen door, he opened it and for the first time, he felt at home. The kitchen almost felt like normal, that buzzing hive as people chattered, pots and pans clinked and the delicious aroma of Mrs Weasley's cooking filled the air. He almost smiled.

Hermione looked up as he entered the room. She was sat at the long wooden kitchen table, chattering away to Ginny who was pouring glasses of pumpkin juice from a large jug that had appeared on the table. Hermione smiled. God, she was gorgeous when she did that. Ron grinned and went to sit down next to her.

'Hey.' Hermione said softly to him, just as Mrs Weasley levitated two very large dishes of lasagne towards the table.

'Right, grubs up.' Mrs Weasley called out in a falsely cheerful voice; a forced smile upon her lips.

There was a flurry of movement as everyone rushed to the table and started grabbing food left, right and centre. In all the chaos, no one noticed as Ron grabbed Hermione's hand under the table. They didn't notice that the two of them served themselves portions of lasagne, vegetables and garlic bread one handed. And no one notice that George wasn't there. At least until the table had quieted and each person was munching away, lost in their own thoughts. Then Mr Weasley looked up, glanced around the table, his gaze finally settled on Ron.

'Er Ron,' he started 'I thought I asked you to get George?'

The effect was instant, the slight hum of chatter that was there just moments before, evaporated. All that was left was the cold empty feeling, the reminder of Fred. It was wrong, that now, whenever Georges name was mentioned, Fred would come straight to mind. That wasn't fair, as close as the twins had been, they were still separate people, looks be dammed.

'Yeah you did' Ron replied slowly 'I asked him, but, er, he said he wasn't, er, hungry.'

A small 'Oh' was all that Mr Weasley managed, the smile gradually sliding from his face.

Ron turned back to his dinner. It didn't taste right anymore, all chewy and hard to swallow. Hermione gave his hand a small squeeze. He knew instinctively that it wasn't just as gesture of comfort this time, instead there was a questioning edge to her gentle touch.

'Later.' He murmured softly, so that only she could hear.

Dinner took hours. Or so it felt. The uncomfortable silence, the tinge of sadness and the absence of both Fred and George had become more and more noticeable throughout the meal. As the meal finished everyone began to drift off, Mr and Mrs Weasley went back to their room, Bill, Fleur and Charlie decided to have one last game of exploding snap, whilst Percy went off to read a large and very dull looking book. At last, it was just Ron and Hermione left at the table, Ginny and Harry having just excused themselves to take another walk in the now darkening garden. Ginny shivered as they stepped outside and Harry wrapped his arms around her to block out the chill. Ron pretended not to notice, it still felt weird, Harry and his sister, his sister and Harry. He knew Harry loved her, but still...

'So?' Hermione asked, turning to him as the kitchen door closed.

Ron took a deep breath, 'George is missing.'

She just sat in silence for a minute, staring at him open mouthed. 'Ge-e-orge is missing?' she finally stammered.

'Yeah.' Ron replied sighing. 'I've got to go and find him. Before anyone else realises. Don't tell them, ok.'

'Ron?' Hermione said looking concerned. 'Ron, you've got to tell them. At least your mum and...'

'No Hermione.' He quickly interjected. 'I don't want to worry them. Things are bad enough as it is.' The last bit was almost a whisper and Hermione's face softened.

She nodded. 'Alright. Just find him quickly.'

He nodded and stood up grabbing the bag of floo powder off the kitchen mantle. He grabbed a handful and was just about to throw it into the grate when he paused, and turned. He strode the few steps back over to Hermione, lent down and kissed her softly.

'I love that I can do that now.'

She smiled blushing, 'me too.' She murmured

'I'll be back soon.' With that, he threw the glittering power into the fireplace and stepped into the brilliant green flames, 'The Leaky Cauldron.'

He spun through the tangled web of the flue network, occasionally spotting other grates in-between the emerald flames that made up the majority of his vision until he landed on the hard hearth of The Leaky Cauldron. He stood up, brushed himself off and glanced around. The pub was fairly full, it was noisy, full of people still celebrating the victory. Of course, the news of the battle would have only arrived this morning. Landed on breakfast tables in the form of an owl and the rolled up pages of parchment. Was it only last night? It felt so much longer to Ron. Days, even weeks almost. As he glance around the room Ron kept an eye out for any sign of the famous Weasley red hair, but there was nothing to see. He stepped over to the bar instead.

'Hey Tom.' He called. The old landlord turned in his direction.

'Well, if it isn't young Mr Weasley!' he exclaimed 'bit young to be here aren't ya?'

'Yeah, but...'

'Ah well, never mind hey. If a hero needs a drink, then a hero needs a drink!' Tom grinned.

Ron frowned. He wasn't a hero. He didn't want to be a hero. Sure, once or twice he had, whenever he saw the fuss and attention that Harry got, then sure, it seemed like it would be nice. But he hadn't done anything. He wasn't special. Anyone could have travelled with Harry or stabbed that Horcrux and many people fought in that battle. Not just him. No, he wasn't a hero.

'Heard some of the stuff you've been doing. Breaking into Greengotts, that's impressive that is. Then that battle up at Hogwarts. Well wow.' Tom was rambling now and it was making Ron feel uncomfortable. He wasn't used to so much praise, especially when he didn't feel he deserved it.

'Tom.' He interrupted 'Have you seen George at all?'

'George?' Tom paused thoughtfully 'No. Can't say I have. Not for a few days now.'

Ron nodded. 'Right ok. Thanks anyway.' He turned and left the pub. Where next? The shop? That seemed likely and the apartment was right above it.

He briskly walked up the street and before long there if was, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The Shop was dark and as Ron peered through the windows, he could barely make out the outlines of the shelves. He could still hear the odd pop and whizz through the glass, but the shop was far quieter than that time he had visited it in the summer just before his sixth year. The sadness again crept up on him and a single tear snaked down his cheek. Fred and George made this shop, Fred and George. Not George. Not Fred. Both of them, together. Would it survive now with one of them gone, or had all the laughter been sucked out of George now he'd lost his twin?

Ron banged on the door. 'George!' he yelled 'George! Open up.' George didn't answer, he didn't open the door. Ron tried the door handle. Locked.

Ron sighed and walked around the edge of the building to the bright red front door that led up to the small flat above. Ron banged on this door too, but again, there was no answer. He tried the handle and this time the door swung wide open. They must have forgotten to lock it, probably in a rush to get to Hogwarts.

Behind door was a steep flight of steps. Ron had been here only once before. It was when the twins were moving in; he remembered trying to get an old blue sofa up the stairs. They had bought the sofa earlier that day, at a big where house type building that was painted blue and yellow, called something like, IKEA, if he remembered correctly. Ron climbed the steps into the apartment. It was a mess. Rather like their room back at the Burrow often was. Half created joke products lay across the surfaces, along with various used bowls and glasses. He wandered through the flat, calling for George as he went. Before long Ron gave up, it was obvious that George wasn't here.

Once back on the street he thought for a moment. Lee Jordan's, he decided. He wasn't entirely sure where Lee's place was, but after taking a few wrong turns and finding himself in a few dodgy looking alleyways, he found the ground floor apartment where the twins best friend lived. Ron took a breath and knocked. He waited only a few moments when Lee opened the door.

'Ron?' exclaimed Lee looking surprised

'Hi Lee,' said Ron, 'is George here?'

Lee's face softened. 'No sorry Ron, he's not. I haven't seen him since, well, er, since, since Fred...' he tailed off.

Ron was silent for a moment. 'Ok. Do you know where he might be?'

'Erm, his flat. Or maybe The Leaky Cauldron, they often went there.'

'Yeah, I tried those, no sign of him.' Ron replied

'Oh. Well, er, you could always try Angelina's.'

'Angelina Johnson? Do you know where she lives.'

'Yeah. Her place isn't far from here, about a five minute walk maybe.' Said Lee nodding, ' just follow this road until you get to the traffic lights, you know those funny black boxes with red, yellow and green lights?'

Ron nodded, 'I know what you mean.'

'Ok, well turn left at those and keep walking until you get to the next left turning. She lives along there, Stowey House Apartments, 4B.' Lee continued.

'Right ok. Thanks Lee.' Said Ron turning to leave

'Ron.' Lee called to his retreating back, 'let me know when you find him.'

'Will do. Thanks again.' Ron called behind him

He followed Lee's instructions. Down the road to the traffic lights, he would never understand what those were for, all they seemed to was make cars stop, it all seemed rather pointless, turned left, then left again and found himself standing on the doorstep of 4B Stowey House apartments. He knocked on the faded blue front door. It soon swung open to reveal Angelina Johnson.

'Hi Angelina. Have you seen George at all?'


	5. Chapter 5

Yes I know what your all thinking. Wow, another update and about time too! I'm not going to make excuses for how long it's taken me to actually write this chapter, but I just haven't had the drive or inspiration to write recently. So hey, I'm back and in a good mood, mostly because I just passed my driving test (like how I slipped that in there?) and basically, happy author = new chapter and happy readers (hopefully). Anyways, enjoy. :)

...

Angelina's apartment was small. Very small actually. Smaller than the twins place above the shop. Bigger than Hagrid's hut though, and cleaner too. Much cleaner! The walls of the tiny hallway had been painted a creamy white colour, and this colour scheme appeared to continue throughout the rest of the flat, at least, as far as Ron could tell from his vantage point. He stood just inside the door, next to a small wooden table with some unknown potted plant on top of it. Above the table and potted plant hung an aged mirror. The mirror was clearly old and had been painted a shiny shade of gold, but the paint had begun to fade, and Ron could see the colour of wood beginning to seep through in certain places. He turned his attention away from the frame and instead, looked into the cracked glass. His face was slightly distorted, the glass having been warped with time, but he could still make out enough of himself to notice how terrible he looked. So tiered. So warn. The bruises still shone, some were starting to yellow, but most were still visible. The cuts were still evident and there was pain in his eyes. Not physically. Sure the bruises hurt, so did the cuts and the scrapes and the patches were hexes had hit him in the battle. No, the pain was mental, emotional.

'Ron.' Angelina had stuck her head around one of the three wooden doors that led off the hallway. He looked around and she beckoned him through the open door.

Her sitting room was similar to her hall. He had been right; the cream colour had been continued in here. There was a large bookshelf beside the small window. Various books caught Ron's eye, mostly the Quidditch related ones such as, A History of Brooms and 101 Quidditch Injuries and How to Cure Them. In a corner sat a two chairs and a table, upon which sat two empty plates and a stack of daily profits. There was a wireless on the mantelpiece and in the grate glowed a tiny fire, barely big enough to heat the small room. And in front of the fire was a scarlet sofa with a matching armchair. And in the armchair, sat George.

'George.' Ron breathed in relief. He had known he was here of course. Angelina had told him that when she let him in. But it was different. Being told that George was ok and seeing that George was ok, were two totally different things.

George looked up. His eyes were hollow. Dark pools of despair. Ron started. He hadn't expected it to be so bad. He'd underestimated the situation. He was in way over his head. Ron began to panic. His heart began to pound and his palms began to sweat. Bloody Hell. What did he say? He couldn't make this better. He mentally shook his head.

'No Ron.' He thought to himself 'You can do this. You need to do this. Be strong.'

Be strong. Be strong. Yes, that was it. He would be strong. His family needed him to be strong. All of them did and right now, especially George. Ron gulped and stepped towards the scarlet armchair. He reached out and put his hand on Georges arm.

'George?' He said slowly, calmly, crouching down to Georges level. 'George?'

'Ron.' George gasped his dark eyes filling with tears. 'Oh Ron.' He leant over and pulled his brother into a tight hug. Ron was in shock. Never, ever, not once had either of the twins hugged him, not once. He hugged George back, sensing that this was what George needed.

After awhile George calmed down and pulled away. 'Thankyou.' He said looking towards his youngest brother.

Ron nodded. 'You scared me there George. Don't just take off like that.'

George was silent for a moment. 'Do Mum and Dad... Do they...'

Ron shook his head. 'No, I er, covered. They don't know.'

George nodded. 'Thanks.'

Ron just shrugged, 'didn't want to worry them.'

Silence filled the room once again.

'I fucking miss him!' George suddenly blurted out. 'It's only been a day, but I...' he trailed off.

'Me too.'

'I feel like... like. Oh fuck I don't know!' George mumbled 'Like part of me died too I guess. Like I can never laugh again, or smile or invent stuff, cos, well cos if he can't, then why should I? He got me Ron. He got me. Not just because we looked alike either. It was deep, way deep...'

Ron nodded. He tried to understand. Fred had been his brother and that was one hell of a bond. But Fred and George were more than simply brothers. They were twins. Identical twins. The kind that had been one and had split so long ago, but still stayed together, day and night. Living life together as if they were still one unit. One unit with two different names. It was hard for Ron to truly understand how it felt, to lose your other half. But he tried, he really tried.

'I know Georgie.' He said softly

George looked at him. 'Fred was sorry you know.'

Ron must have looked confused as he continued. 'For the way we all ways treated you. He was sorry and so am I. The war made us realise. Ron we treated you like shit, for years. That stuff with the teddy bear and the spider, every trick we ever played on you. We were just jealous. We loved you, but we were jealous.'

'Jealouse? Of Me?'

'Yeah you ickle Ronnie. You. You were always our little brother. Things were easier for you as the youngest. You didn't have to work so hard to get attention cos you were small and naturally irritating.' He half smiled at Ron as he said this.

A slight smile tugged at the corners of Ron's mouth. George tried to make a joke. George will be ok. Eventually. But he will be.

'You reminded us of ourselves slightly. Red hair and freckles aside, you had the same natural attribute for trouble. We never told you this, but you were always our favourite.'

They were silent for a while. 'George,' Ron finally spoke, 'Why did you come here?'

George thought for a moment and said in a low voice so his voice couldn't be heard by Angelina in the room next-door, 'I, I don't really know. It just felt... just felt right, you know. Ange...'

Ron raised his eyebrows. 'Hmm, so George and Angelina,' he thought to himself, 'Not Fred and Angelina then as he had always thought, but George. George and Angelina. Well you do learn something new every day.'

'I couldn't stand it at home anyway.' He continued, 'Everyone looked at me like I was, like I was... like I was Fred. I'm scared that that's all they'll see when they look at me. And I couldn't stand that Ronnie. I really couldn't.' Tears were beginning to well up in his eyes again.

'It won't last long. I promise you it won't. Come home George.'

George looked at him. 'Yeah, Ronnie. I will.'


	6. Chapter 6

She stood with the Weasley's as the casket was lowered into the ground. Harry on her left and Ron on her right. It had been a week since George went missing. Ron had found him and bought him home before anyone else noticed. She was thankful for that, Ron's sudden announcement that George had just vanished had terrified her and the suspicious questioning over Ron's whereabouts was becoming too much. For the hours he was gone she couldn't relax, granted it had only been three, but still, three hours of worry and tension is plenty. Then when the others went up to bed and he still hadn't returned, she began to tremble with concern, and probably some tiredness too. She sat down at the kitchen table, got up again, too restless to do nothing, and busied herself with making a cup of tea. The door opened as the kettle began to sing. She jumped, heart thumping. Deatheaters? Her wand was in her hand as she span around to face the wooden back door to the Burrow's kitchen.

'Wow, Mione!' said Ron's voice quickly

She sighed in relief and lowered her wand. It was just Ron.

'Oh, sorry.' She said adding a quiet 'reflexes.'

He just smiled. 'No worries. I think everyone's still on the defensive.'

She smiled gratefully. He always knew how to make her feel more at ease. But wait, 'where was George?' she thought to herself.

'Did you find him?' she asked

He nodded, his expression changing to one of sadness. 'He was at Angelina's.'

'Angelina's?' she questioned, turning to take the still whistling kettle off the stove.

'Yeah, I was surprised too.'

'Tea?' she interrupted

'Please.' Ron replied taking a seat at the long wooden kitchen table. 'Merlin Hermione, you should have seen him. He was just so...' he trailed off

She nodded and placed the two cups of tea on the table. Ron picked his up, cradling it in his hands as if he was trying to take comfort from it's warmth. He looked so lonely and so small, that instead of taking a seat opposite him, she went around the table, pried the mug from his hands and sat on his lap, pulling him into a comforting hug as she did so. He buried his face into the crevice of her neck, breathing deeply as tears threatened to overcome him.

'Mione...'

'Shh,' she murmured holding him tightly.

They stayed like that for a while. Hermione held Ron and he clung on to her until his sobs began to subside.

'He's going to stay at Angelina's place for tonight, come home in the morning.' Ron finally said.

'That's good.' She nodded 'just give him some time.'

'I know.' Ron agreed quietly 'he's going to be fine.'

He lifted his head and looked into her big brown eyes. She melted. He was in so much pain. She wished right then that there was some way that she could take it all away. Every fear, every moment of anguish, every sadness. She knew by then that she truly loved him, probably always had done, but now his pain was her pain and seeing him this way was hurting her too.

Now she looked up into his eyes. Behind the reflection of the casket, she could see that pain again. He was trying to hide it, and the tears that she knew were threatening to make an appearance. He wanted to be strong, for Harry, for his Family, for George and for her. She grasped his hand, a small tear streaming down her face. He gave her hand a slight squeeze, as if to say, 'its ok Hermione, I'm going to be ok.'

She rested her head on his upper arm as George walked over to the grave and began to speak.

'Fred was my brother. 'He began

'He was loyal and brave. He loved his family,' he glanced over at Mrs Weasley, who was dabbing at her eyes with a sodden handkerchief and Mr Weasley who had his arm wrapped around her, and appeared to be trying to fight back his own tears. 'And his friends' George continued. 'Sure he had some bad points; he was loud and could be a complete wanker at times, but for that we can forgive him, because he was also devilishly handsome.' The congregation smiled and a few even chuckled at this. 'So to Fred, my friend, my twin, my brother.'

There was a loud bang that seemed to originate from above. Everyone jumped and looked towards the sky. There it was, the perfect tribute to Fred, thousands and thousands of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes fireworks covering the sky, a ideal reminder of the fact that although he died young, he still achieved something and that his love of pranking would always live on.

As the last of the fireworks faded, the mound of earth beside the grave rose and filled the hole, covering Fred's defeated body, forming a perfect mound. The headstone soared into place, levitated by Mr Weasley, who then carved into the stone Fred's name, dates and the words 'a brother, a son, loyal to the end'.

Hermione sobbed, a tear rolled down her cheek as she softly murmured 'good bye Fred.'


	7. Chapter 7

Percy became rather bossy over the next few weeks. Not in the obnoxious prick kind of way that he used to be, but rather in that, I am going to take control of this flailing situation kind of way. For the most part this new Percy relieved Ron. For the moment it wasn't his responsibility to be the tough, strong one that he had forced himself to be in the days after the battle. The days after Fred's death. With Percy busily organising, cooking, cleaning and being his typical responsible self, Ron had time to grieve.

Bill and Fleur had long since returned to the burrow and with George spending most of his time hiding in the small apartment above his shop or at Angelina Johnson's, the burrow seemed strangely quiet. Both Charlie and Mr Weasley had thrown themselves into work. Charlie had agreed to stay close to home, no flying off to Romania for a while, and was instead helping to rebuild the ministry. Ron supposed that this was their method of copping, some form of distraction. At least, that's what Hermione suggested one evening when he broached the subject. Hermione it was safe to say, was his distraction. The one ray of sunlight in a world full of darkness.

The Burrow had formed a sort of rhythm. Charlie and Mr Weasley worked, George hid and Mrs Weasley rarely ventured from her room except for the meals that Percy prepared. It would be fair to say that the standard of food had slipped, not quite down to Hermione's slimy mushroom standard, but poor all the same. In fact, the only thing that stopped Ron from moaning about the grey, lumpy stew served to him one evening, was the sight of Percy wearing their Mother's pink floral apron. A look that Harry instantly dubbed 'Aunt Petunia chic'.

It was during this meal, one of the few where everyone was in attendance, that Charlie handed Hermione a letter. It was made out of the parchment that was commonplace in the Wizarding world, slightly yellowed and fairly thick. Hermione's name was etched clearly on to the front in an elegant, swooping font, whilst the back was sealed with the waxed ministry emblem.

Hermione looked down at the letter in confusion. 'Who is it from?' she asked Charlie

'Kingsley.' He replied trying not to gag on his mouthful of grey slop. He swallowed. 'It was on my desk when I came back from lunch along with a note saying to pass it along.'

'Strange, why didn't he just send it by owl?' Ginny piped up from the opposite end of the table. The room had fallen silent, everyone was too busy either staring at the envelope or listening to Hermione and Charlie's conversation.

Charlie opened his mouth to reply, but Mr Weasley was already speaking. 'Because there aren't enough ministry owls at the moment. The owl office is already backed up with messages regarding the ministry overhaul. My guess is Kingsley thought this way would be quicker.'

'There's not enough owls?' Harry questioned sceptically

'Nowhere near enough no.' Said Mr Weasley

'What with all the Ministry hearings, the rebuilding of departments and even the physical structural damage itself that has emerged in certain areas; the ministry is very hectic at the moment.' Interrupted Charlie

The table was silent for a moment. Nobody had really thought about it. Cooped up in The Burrow, they had been isolated from the outside world and somehow it had dawned on none of them that although the war was over, the Magical world was still a mess. Technically, there was no government anymore, just the corrupt ruins of a Voldemort oppressed administration.

'So who's the new minister for magic?' Ginny asked

'Unofficially, Kingsley is for the moment, but there is talk of making him the permanent minister if he can pull us through this.'

'I want to help.' Harry said after a long pause. 'There's work to be done, and I feel useless just sitting around here.'

'Me too Dad.' Piped up Ginny

'Well...' Mr Weasley considered, 'I'll have a word with Kingsley. I know he needs volunteers to help rebuild Hogwarts over the next few weeks.'

'You can count me in on that too.' Announced George. Everyone looked up in surprise, they had quite forgotten George was sat there, and no one would have expected him to volunteer to return to the place where his twin died.

'Er, are you sure George?' Charlie questioned gently

'Yeah. I am.' George replied with conviction, 'I have to face the place at some point right?'

In the shock of George's proclamation, no one noticed as Ron and Hermione slipped from the room. They went upstairs to Ron's attic bedroom, or rather their attic bedroom. The sleeping arrangements had remained little changed from the night after the battle. There seemed to be an unspoken acceptance, that once Mr and Mrs Weasley had gone to bed, Harry would find his way down to Ginny's room whilst Hermione found her way to Ron's. Although Ron was delighted at the idea of having Hermione in his bed every night, he tried very hard to block out all thoughts of a similar scene in a room bellow, only played out by his best friend and little sister. The idea made him both gag and incited that insane protective instinct that made him want to punch Harry in the balls.

They both sat down on the overly cramped bed, Hermione toying with the unopened letter.

Ron reached out and took her small hand in his, 'you going to open it?' he asked softly.

She nodded, then paused hand hovering over the seal. 'Ron,' she whispered 'I'm scared.'

Ron pulled her in close, 'don't be, it's just Kingsley.' He murmured

Hermione seemed to draw a deep breath and ripped open the envelope. She unfolded the neat parchment and began to read. Ron watched as her expression changed from one of fear and nervousness, to one of joy. Eventually she looked up at Ron and grinned.

'Kingsley's found Mum and Dad.'


	8. Chapter 8

Oh wow. Five months since I last updated! Nearly six. I wish I had an excuse, but it's been summer so really I don't. Then again, I'm sure I've warned you all before about my terrible inability to update regularly. It's a basic case of if I don't feel inspired then I won't write. To quote Robbie Coltrane, (or rather Hagrid) 'sorry bout tha'.

Anyway, I suppose I shouldn't keep you from this chapter any longer (you've been waiting long enough after all), except to warn you that I start university tomorrow, so a lack of either time or too much fun in freshers week will probably become my next excuse for a long gap between updates, so take your time and enjoy this chapter.

….….

Hermione sat anxiously upon one of the two wooden chairs that lined the wall outside of Kingsley Shacklebolt's ministry office. At that moment, she felt like a kid again, like a school girl sent to the headmaster to receive some kind of punishment for an unknown wrongdoing. Beside her, with his hand resting supportively on her knee, sat the one thing that was keeping her in the straight-backed chair. It seemed ironic given her state of anxiety and his calming effect, that she never intended to bring him in the first place, and, if it were not for that morning's events, she never would have.

The day had begun in a similar way to normal. Breakfast in the Burrow's large kitchen, bacon with the accompanying talk of getting Bill over for a three on three Quidditch match that evening and a steaming vat of coffee. It was a big day for Hermione. Whilst Harry, Ron, Ginny and George were off for another day rebuilding the walls of Hogwarts, she was getting her parents back. They had returned from Australia two days after Hermione received Kingsley's letter. Since then however, they had been kept in isolation whilst Ministry officials removed the memory charms and slowly reintroduced them to reality.

Her appointment was set for half ten. So after the breakfast dishes were tidied away, she headed upstairs to grab her jacket. As she worked her way back through the many rickety staircases and warped rooms of the house, she was startled by the sound of angry voices coming from outside. She quickly crossed the landing to an open window, standing on tiptoes sticking her head out as far as she could to better observe the scene bellow.

What she saw was a red faced Ron. Not just Ron. Harry too, and Ginny. The three of them formed a strange sort of triangle that emanated anger from every corner. Ginny had once again regained her Mrs Wealsey stance. Hands on the hips, feet planted firmly, gesturing wildly with every word she spoke. Or rather shouted. There seemed to be a lot of shouting. Mostly between Ron and Ginny, but every so often the attention shifted to Ron and Harry.

"Merlin!" Hermione thought, turning hurriedly and racing down the stairs and through the kitchen door, out into the wild and overgrown garden of the burrow.

It wasn't hard to find the small group. The furious arguments that had sounded so vague and muffled from the upstairs window, were now as clear as veritisirum.

"You're lucky I haven't hexed your bloody balls off Potter! That's my little sister!"

"Oh shut it Ronald. I don't need you to protect me!"

"Yeah I think you…"

"What's going on?"

Ron turned around to see Hermione standing there, staring at the three of them as though they'd lost their minds. Maybe they had. No. Harry deserved the snub. He was the one trying to fuck his little sister behind a tree in the back garden. Well ok. They weren't exactly fucking. But what brother wants to round a corner and find his best friend with his hand up his sister's top and his tongue down her throat?

"Err… Erg… Um. They…" Ron began to gag as he spoke. He pointed his wand at Harry and Ginny his anger overcoming his shear revulsion. "They were fucking in the garden!"

Hermione gasped. That explained a lot. She thought Ron had been starting to accept things between his best friend and sister. But apparently not. Actually, defiantly not by the looks of things.

"Mate, seriously we weren't…" Harry tried to interject

"Oh don't try and defend us Harry! Its none of his business what we get up to!"

"None of my… None of my fucking business?"

"No Ronald it's not! Why should you care what Harry and I get up too when we're alone, when the rooms all dark and Harry uses mufliato on the bedroom door…" Ginny's tone had changed. It had become silky, dangerous and almost seductive, as though she was trying to torture Ron with her words and the subsequent images they delivered. "Why should you care where we put our hands or where we touch with our lips?"

"Enough!" Hermione stepped forward and raised her hands. She had to end this now. Ron's face had progressed beyond red and bypassed scarlet altogether, becoming instead that dangerous shade of maroon he hated so much in Mrs Weasley's Christmas jumpers. Aside from the alarming shade of her boyfriend's face and the metaphorical steam beginning to rise out of both his and Ginny's ears. She ended it because of the wands. Both siblings had slowly been raising their wands, probably subconsciously, but even so, raised wands meant imminent spells and imminent spells in an argument meant imminent injuries, something that Hermione was fairly eager to avoid.

"This is stupid." She said loudly. "All of you put your wands away." The others just glared at her. "Now!" She yelled

Hermione almost never yelled. Not as a prefect, not at Malfoy, not at her parents. In fact the only person any of them could remember her yelling at was Ron. They all winced visibly and hastily shoved their wands back in their pockets, Ginny murmuring something about Hermione and her bossiness as she did so.

"That's better. Now I think Ron had better come with me to the ministry today. You all need time to cool off."

Her plan seemed to have worked. Ron had calmed down as he sat with Hermione. Looking at her tense face and the nervous flittering of her eyes, he realized that she needed him right now. Just as he'd needed her after the battle. Really, the plan should have always been for him to come with her. A fact she knew too when Kingsley opened the door and beckoned them inside. She clutched Ron's hand tightly in her own. Feeling his support, she stood, thinking to herself, "fuck. Well here we go."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

They weren't mad. She wished they were. She knew they were disappointed. They would never say it. Not to her face at least, but she still knew it, deep down inside. She felt small again, the way she had before she turned eleven, before she started at Hogwarts, before she met Harry and Ron, back in the days when she was the geeky girl in the class at school, with the big bushy brown hair and no friends to speak of. Her parents had been slightly disappointed in her in those days too. Not in her grades, academically she had always been perfect. Of course she had, she was Hermione. But instead it was her lack of social interaction that bothered them.

"Hermione darling, why don't you go outside and play with your friends for a bit?" they always used to ask.

She remembered awkwardly fidgeting whenever this question was asked. She would blush and mumble, "Because I don't have any friends." Then her parents would sigh and she would quickly add more confidently, "My books are my friends and the people in them."

But now she was different and it wasn't her love of books that annoyed them anymore, rather her new abilities in the field of lying and trickery. Although they understood her reasoning and were proud of her achievements, they just wished that she had been honest and spoken to them about it first.

Hermione had changed. Last summer she had still been their clever little girl, who went to school with her friends, who loved books and learning and had a talent for spells. She had changed before when she turned eleven, but the last year was different. The Hermione who stood before them in Kingsley Shacklebolt's office was a woman. She had grown up. She had fought evil, been tortured, solved puzzles, survived on her own in the world and somehow along the way, she'd fallen in love, with the redheaded boy standing next to her. On the outside she still looked like Hermione, but as she walked through the door, one glance into her eyes told her parents that a lot had changed.

Mrs Granger gasped as her daughter entered the room. She hastily stood from the elaborately carved chair that she had been sat on and held her hands out to Hermione. Their family had never really been the emotional, touchy feely kind, but in this moment it felt right. Hermione clearly thought so too, as she let go of Ron's hand and held onto her mother's, allowing Mrs Granger to slowly pull her into a hug. Mr Granger stood slowly and moved to join his family. They stayed like that for a while, until Mr Granger separated himself and turned to Ron.

"Thankyou for taking care of my little girl." He said holding out his hand for Ron to shake.

"Oh um…" Ron mumbled surprised, but still shaking Mr Granger's hand. "It's ok. Although I think she took more care of me really."

Mr Granger chuckled at this. "Yeah, that sounds like my Hermione."

There was a cough from the corner of the small room. The three Grangers and the Weasley turned to see Kingsley, who had shut the door and returned to the comfy looking seat behind the solid oak desk. The desk was littered with parchment and quills. A large tawny owl sat on the left hand side and a plate of custard creams on the right. These were inevitably what caught Ron's attention and his stomach rumbled loudly. Kingsley chuckled offering him the plate.

"Help yourself." He said "then you should all take a seat. We have a lot to sort out."

Ron helped himself to four biscuits, then, seeing the look on Hermione's face, quickly put one back before handing the plate to Mr Granger. He shoved the first one into his mouth, letting out a small groan of pleasure as the sugary treat met his tongue. He then pulled back one of the wooden chairs opposite Kingsley's desk and sat down next to Hermione, reaching out to once again, take her hand in his.


	10. Chapter 10

The house was down a small leafy road. It was quiet and peaceful, lined with trees and bushes and the odd flower bed. There were a few cars parked in the road, but most were safely enclosed behind gates on driveways or in garages with brightly painted doors. Not that they really needed to be. This area was in no way rough. In fact it was so safe, that a little way further down from where he stood, two kids rode their bikes round and round, whilst a younger looking child chased after them clutching a large football in her small chubby arms. As he stood there watching for a moment, he began to wonder if that was what Hermione's childhood had looked like. He tried to imagine it. A little Hermione, with huge bushy hair and braces running up and down this very street with the other neighbourhood kids. It seemed unlikely somehow. Hermione was very much an indoor sort of person.

They had talked for a long time in Kingsley's office the other day. He and Hermione told her parents everything that had happened to them. They answered their questions, then the conversation moved to how they were going to rebuild their lives. How they needed to restart their dentist surgery and how they needed to bond again with their daughter after such a long time apart. How they wanted Hermione to come back home, at least for a while. Hermione had agreed after much pleading, but only if Ron could stay for a bit too.

He turned to his right and there it was. The blue painted door of number eight. Hermione's house. Ron smiled at the thought. Behind that door and behind those walls was Hermione. They hadn't seen each other in days and it amazed him how much he had missed her. Especially at night, hugging a pillow just wasn't the same. It didn't keep the nightmares away. He made his way up to the front door and knocked. He was tired now, trains took a long time. Really it would have been easier to use floo powder, but the Granger house only had and an electric fireplace and since he still hadn't passed the apparition test that was out too. It had been a long journey and the only thing that had really kept him going was counting down the hours till he got to see Hermione again, till he got to touch her, to kiss her, to hear her voice.

To hear her voice. There it was. Just on the other side of the door. His heart flipped, the way it always did when she was around. He grinned as the door swung open to reveal a beaming Hermione. She squealed in excitement as she reached to hug him, actually squealed. Ron grinned even harder, he'd never heard Hermione squeal before, it made her seem girly, feminine and happy. He liked that, and liked the fact that it was he who made her feel that way. Ron quickly dropped his bag beside the doorstep and enthusiastically hugged his girlfriend.

"Too long" he murmured into her bushy hair, "never leaving you again."

He leant down to kiss her, but before he could Mr Granger walked into the hall munching on an apple, that days newspaper clutched in his hand. They leaped apart guiltily, both blushing as Mr Granger said "God Hermione, don't just keep the poor lad standing on the doorstep! Come on in Ron." Ron bent down and scooped up his bag, Hermione standing aside to let him through the door.

"Good to see you again Ron." Mr Granger said, tucking his paper under his arm and holding out his hand to Ron.

"You too Sir." Replied Ron taking Mr Granger's hand with his free one and exchanging a firm handshake.

Ron let go of his hand and looked around the room. The front door had clearly opened onto some sort of hallway. It had pale blue painted walls and a cream carpet that flowed up the stairs on his right and he assumed, continued along the upstairs landing. It was a very clean room, with nothing much in it except a small table that held a pile of unopened letters and what he recognised to be a telephelone or a telphon or something like that anyway, Dad was often playing around with one anyway and he'd tried to use it to contact Harry one summer. It hadn't gone well and he hadn't tried to use one since.

Just then the door at the end of the hall opened had Mrs Granger's head appeared. "Oh hello Ron" she called smiling at him. "Hermione dear why don't you show Ron to his room, that bag looks awfully heavy. Dinner's going to be about half an hour so that'll give you time to settle in before we eat."

Hermione nodded and motioned for Ron to follow her upstairs. "Mum's made up the spare room for you. I think you'll like it, it has its own…" but her voice was drowned out by Mrs Granger who had just spotted the apple Mr Granger had been eating.

"Hugo Granger, I told you dinner was soon, don't eat anything! And that had better not be the apple for my fruit salad!"

Looking back, Ron saw Mr Granger look sheepish as he quickly tried to hide the half eaten apple behind his back. Hermione chuckled, happy that her family was getting back to normal. They continued up the stairs Hermione opening the first door on the right. They entered the room, Ron gasped. The room was huge, easily the size of his dormitory back in Gryffindor tower, except this time, it was just his. There was a large wardrobe and a big double bed that looked so soft that he just wanted to dive straight under the covers and to take Hermione with him. He had a feeling that that would be the cosiest he'd ever been. A lovely warm Hermione and a big squishy duvet. Before he could act on this however, his eye was caught by a door in the corner.

"Whats behind there?" he asked Hermione, beckoning towards the mysterious door as he did so.

"Oh yeah, that's was I was trying to tell you about." She grinned, "Go have a look."

He was curious and exited as he stepped towards the door. He pulled at the handle and opened the door to reveal his very own private bathroom. A simple "wow" was all he could manage. He'd never been in a house where the bedrooms all had their own bathrooms, and it was seriously cool. Now he didn't have to worry about the possibility of running into Mr or Mrs Granger wearing pyjamas in the middle of the night.

"This is awesome." He said turning back to Hermione who was still standing in the middle of the room watching him take in everything.

"Yeah it's pretty cool. Fairly new too, mum and dad did just before I… er… just before we left with Harry."

He nodded, walking back over to her and pulling her into a hug. It was clearly still difficult for her, deep down she'd probably thought she'd never see her parents again, never return to this house. Once again, he leant down and was mere millimetres away from her lips when an almighty wailing sound rung through the house.

He jumped and pulled out his wand on reflex. Hermione, who had jumped too, touched his arm reassuringly. "Don't worry; it's just the smoke alarm." She sighed "I should have warned you, mums an even worse cook than I am! Looks like we're having takeaway tonight then. How do you feel about Chinese?"


	11. Chapter 11

Chopsticks were tricky. And the noodles slimy, but so good that Ron didn't even mind Hermione's laughter as she watched him attempt to shovel in his portion of chicken chow main. Hermione, like always, was pretty skilled at the whole chopstick thing. He guessed she'd grown up eating Chinese takeaway though. He used that as his excuse whenever one of the pesky noodles slipped on to his lap or down his chin.

He swallowed his bite and grinned up at Hermione. 'We have to have this at the burrow one day!' he said.

She chuckled again, she seemed to do that a lot here he noted. 'Ron, your mother would have a heart attack!'

'Yeah, but dad would love it! A muggle style meal. Couldn't be better for him. Might have found his birthday present.'

'Oh. Speaking of your dad Ron,' interjected Mr Granger from across the kitchen table, 'I found a few things he might be interested in when I was unpacking all the stuff from Australia. I'll box them up and put them in your room so you can give them to him if you don't mind.'

'Sure, sounds good.'

Once the group had finished their takeaway, they moved to the sitting room to watch tv. It was large, with two big squishy sofas and an arm chair that was instantly claimed by Mr Granger. Ron had seen a telefishion before, but he was still amazed when Mrs Granger turned it on and a tiny little scene appeared complete with tiny little people and tiny little animals. Mrs Granger changed it to some sort of quiz show. Ron didn't really understand it to be honest. It was a muggle show, made for muggles with muggle questions. He didn't mind though. He was happy just looking at something cool and new. The fact that Hermione was there curled into his side didn't exactly make things worse either!

Hermione. The girl who loved him. The girl he loved. His smart little witch who was firing out the answers to questions about people he'd never even heard of. His sexy little witch. He allowed his mind to wonder. And wonder it did. Right to the feel of her lips when she kissed him. The surprising softness of her hair and the way she felt as she pressed up against him…

Pressed up. Fuck! There was something pressed up alright. Right against his trousers. Merlin! And she'd noticed. And her parents were sat right on the opposite side of the room. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His palms began to sweat as he looked down at his girlfriend.

She was looking at him, eyebrows raised and a slight smirk forming on her lips. He shrugged looking uncomfortable. Oh god what a nightmare. Why did he let his mind go there. He needed to think of something else. Quick. Um puppies, kittens, quidditch. He felt Hermione shuffle. She was trying to cover his obvious boner. Thankfully her parents were still oblivious, still engrossed in the quiz show. He knew what she was doing but she didn't seem to understand that moving closer and rubbing against him wasn't exactly helping. Hogwarts, toads, Voldemort. Voldemort. Well that worked. No one could have a boner whilst thinking about that twat. Unless you're a male Belatrix Lastrange perhaps. But then you probably have bigger issues than hiding an erection.

He relaxed and leant his head on the top of Hermione's. 'sorry.' He whispered

He felt her smile and she softly replied, 'don't worry. I don't mind.'

They were quiet for a while as an old grey haired man with a slight beer belly won £350 on the quiz show. The show ended and Mr granger suggested they play a game before bed.

'Now have you ever played monopoly Ron?' He asked staring into a crammed games cupboard

Ron shook his head, 'I don't think so no.'

'Great. Then monopoly it is. It's quite a long game though.' He mused as he pulled the offending board game from the bottom of a packed shelf. 'Perhaps we'll just start it tonight and finish tomorrow.'

They all nodded and Mrs Granger got up and headed towards the kitchen. 'I'll make us all a round of coco then shall I.'

Mr Granger placed the game down on the coffee table and began to start setting it up. It looked complex and Ron sensed that he was going to get confused at some point. Hermione sat up from her position curled against him and leant forward to help her father set up. As she did so she quietly whispered to Ron so that no one else would hear, 'meet me in my room after my parents are asleep.'

He nodded. Butterflies instantly forming somewhere around his navel. He'd never seen Hermione's room before and now he was going to be alone in it with her. With Hermione, his girlfriend, in her room, where her bed was. He swallowed and tried to focus back on what was going on in the room. Mrs Granger was back and she handed him a large mug of hot chocolate. She'd added marshmallows to the top and he grinned as he took a sip, resurfacing with a marshmallow fluff moustache.

The Grangers all laughed and he grinned as he turned to Mr Granger and asked, 'right, so how do you play?'

Ron, it turns out, was good at monopoly. He seemed to have a good sense of what to buy and when. Hermione on the other hand was not. And in typical Hermione fashion, she did not like what she wasn't good at, referring to Ron's success simply as beginners luck. Ron simply shrugged when she said this, deducing that anything else would cause one of their classic Ron/Hermione arguments. Something he really wanted to avoid given what she'd whispered to him earlier.

It was about half past ten when Mr Granger declared it was bed time. The butterflies in Ron's stomach doubled as he followed the family up the stairs, said good night and went into his room. He sat down on the bed and picked up his quidditch magazine to help calm him down. Besides, who knew how long he'd have to wait till Mr and Mrs Granger were asleep.

It wasn't long. Ron had only read around half his magazine by the time the gentle sounds of snoring could be heard from down the hall. He stood up. Took a breath and slowly, quietly opened the door. It was pitch black. Dam he should have thought of that. He took a few steps back and grabbed his wand from the night stand.

'Lumos.' He whispered creeping out into the now dimly lit hallway.

Hermione's room was just opposite. He knocked lightly whispering Hermione's name as he did so. She slowly opened the door and he slipped in before either of her parents awoke.

Her room was not how he had imagined. Somehow, whenever Ron had tried to picture Hermione's bedroom it had seemed rather like a library. Full of large book shelves, a desk, dark wood with that musky book smell. It had to have a bed though and probably a few book lights somewhere and a wardrobe he thought with hindsight. There were books. But the rest of the room was much more girly than he would have believed of Hermione. It was a fairly small room with a cream carpet and lilac walls. Her furniture was white including the big double bed that stood along the right hand wall. And there were those small lights across the ceiling. What are they called? The ones that let of a slight glow, kind of like a fairy. There was a large Gryffindor banner above her desk however that made him smile. And of course there was Hermione. Looking beautiful in the shorts and tank top she often wore as pyjamas.

She was standing there smiling at him as he took in her room. 'Hey.' She whispered as his attention turned back to her.

'Hi.'

She moved to sit cross legged on her bed. It looked comfy with its big squishy pillows and duvet. He sat down next to her.

'What do you think?' she asked

'This, is, so weird.' He murmured in reply

'what do you mean?' she said confusedly

Oh merlin. Now he'd insulted her. 'Nothing.' He said quickly 'Just that you've always spent so much time in my room. I never even thought I'd ever make it in to yours. You know. Back before we weren't we. I mean us. I mean whatever we are.' He was rambling now 'back when we were just friends.'

'You mean before you were my boyfriend?' said Hermione shyly, a hint of blush starting to creep into her cheeks.

His heart thumped. She'd never called him that. Not to his face anyway. They'd never really discussed it. He'd sort of just assumed. His ears started to burn and he was blushing horribly too as he replied 'Yeah back before I was your boyfriend.'

They both grinned. Geeze they could be soppy sometimes. He leant in to kiss her. Revelling in the sweat softness of her lips as they touched and the wildly tangled, yet somehow soft feeling of her hair as his fingers began to tangle into it. He felt her passion rise. Felt it in the force of her kiss and the way she moved further towards him. Her hands were creeping around his neck, fingers toying with the red Weasley hair at the base of his hair line. He groaned. It felt so good. This was Hermione. Hermione like he'd never seen her, never felt her before. Not thinking just feeling.

He'd read the book from Fred and George. He knew where this was going. He'd made out with Lavender Brown a few times in 6th year, but it had never felt anything like this. With Lavender he'd felt bulky, stupid and to be perfectly honest, most of the time he'd been trying to think about Hermione. This was better. Much better. This felt right.

Ron lowered his hands to Hermione's hips, his cold hands making her jump slightly as they brushed against the small gap between her top and her shorts. She leant backwards, head resting against the pillows, pulling him down on top of her as she did so. He pulled back from the kiss and looked at her with raised eyebrows. She simply shrugged and slyly bit her lip. He grinned and leaned back it to kiss her again.

His full weight was on top of her now. She didn't seem to mind. Her legs simply seemed to tangle with his, pulling him even closer if that was possible. This felt amazing. Ron's hand began to slip up Hermione's shirt. 'He couldn't help it' he thought as he gently moved his hands over her stomach. Her kiss deepened. She seemed to like that.

His hands slowly rose till he felt more fabric. He paused for a split second. 'Bra!' he thought. He didn't have much experience with those. He'd seen them before of course. But they'd been his mother's or his sister's. Those didn't count. He'd never gone this far with Lavender. Hadn't wanted to. The only other bras he'd seen had been in pictures. The pictures of half-naked muggle women in a magazine that Dean had shown them in their dormitory after one Christmas break. He panicked and blushed a deep shade of red. Hermione had noticed his pause and looked up at him. His hand was still on her bra, sort of cupping the breast underneath. They looked at each other both of them now blushing.

'Umm.' Started Hermione as she pushed herself up on her elbows.

'Yeah.' Ron murmured back hastily removing his hand and rolling over to lie next to her.

The moment was gone. She pulled her top down and rolled over to face him. She gave him a quick kiss, smiled, closed her eyes and snuggled into his chest. Ron put his arm around her and lay staring up at the ceiling. 'way to go Ron' he thought 'nice way to end that!' he sighed to himself. 'But hey. Now he'd properly snogged Hermione.' He closed his eyes and mentally high fived himself as he drifted off to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Those days with Ron had been fun. She'd loved taking him out into the muggle world and it was clear to her, that although he hadn't quite inherited Mr Weasley's obsession with all things muggle, it was still a world that drew him in. It was the cinema that he'd loved most, popcorn being his new found love and the loud sounds that surrounded them as they sat in the dark theatre watching an enormous screen often made him jump. Hermione's parents hadn't come with them that day and it was nice she thought, to have the opportunity of a 'normal' date. The kind of date she'd grown up seeing in movies and the sort that muggle couples their age would often have.

The beach was the best bit though. Ron had been to beaches before. The sand was nothing new, nor were the waves lapping against the shore and the barnacle coated rocks. The crunch of sand between teeth as they ate their picnic lunch was familiar. Even their sorry, magic free attempt at a sandcastle was a common holiday sight for a boy from a wizarding family. Mostly, it seemed like the kind of beach he had visited as a child, except this was a muggle beach. A touristy muggle beach actually. The kind that had ice cream vans in the summer, and donkey rides beside the deck chair hire, where you could buy a bucket and spade and a stripy stick of rock from a little hut, followed by a large portion of fish and chips complete with a little wooden fork.

There was a pier too. Long and wooden. It stretched right from the road out into the sea, the sand turning to waves beneath it. There was a large pavilion at the very end and the signs all the way along the promenade told the couple that it housed a theatre and a bowling alley and an arcade. It wasn't Hermione's usual sort of place, but it was such an ingrained part of the muggle beach experience they headed along the length of the pier and up to the arcade. She thought Ron might like it anyway.

They entered the arcade and Hermione headed straight over to the 2p change machine. The 2p drop type games were often her favourite, they were easy to understand and you didn't feel like it was costing you too much. She changed her money and turned around with a small plastic pot of the large bronze coins.

Ron had stopped. He was still over by the doors, mouth open an amazed look in his eyes. Hermione went and stood next to him.

'Ron?' she asked waving her hands in front of his stunned expression 'Ron?'

He blinked at her, 'this is mental.' He simply mumbled

She looked around, trying to see it as if through Ron's eyes. Mental seemed a pretty fitting word actually. It was a huge room. Quite dark full of flashing lights and loud noises. The clink of money falling, the whirrs and dings of games, muggles laughing and screaming and the cheesy pop music that was blaring over the speaker system, all combined into a confusing whirlwind of sound. The clash of senses was suddenly quite intimidating and Hermione looked up at Ron and took his hand in hers.

'Come on.' She said 'It'll be fun.' She pulled him over to the games.

Hermione was right, it was fun. Engrossed in a game of pin ball, Ron jumped when a flash went off in the corner of his eye. He looked up confused. To his right was a large sort of box. There was a door shaped hole cut out of one area. It was covered by a pale blue curtain that didn't quite reach the floor.

'Whats that?' He asked turning to Hermione and jabbing his thumb in the direction of the offending box.

She looked over at where he was pointing and grinned. 'It's a photo booth. We should get a picture.'

'It's a what?' Ron questioned as Hermione led him over to the box that a group of young giggling teenage girls had just vacated.

'A photo booth. It takes pictures.' She pulled back the curtain that covered the cut out section and pointed to a plastic bench. 'We sit here and put in the money and it takes a strip of photos. You know, like those ones you pointed out on my mirror at home.'

Ron nodded. He remembered looking at those the other day. It was a long, thin, piece of glossy paper divided into smaller squares. In each square was a little unmoving image of Hermione and her parents. They had clearly been old photos. Pre Hogwarts probably. Hermione, sat in the middle still had a chubby childlike face, a clear overbite evident as she grinned. It was a happy Hermione.

They sat down on the small bench. It was pretty squishy and Hermione found herself having to half sit on Ron's lap to make them both fit. Hermione fed a handful of coins into a small stot in the machine and suddenly the blank screen in front of them came to life. A countdown began and they both smiled towards the screen as the flash went off. They took a lot of photos. Nice ones, mushy sort of romantic ones and funny ones that had them both laughing. It was like a small private bliss and they almost forgot that there were actual people behind that curtain.

Once they'd exhausted the many different poses, Hermione went to collect the photos leaving Ron standing over by the huge claw machines. He'd never seen anything like it before and watched as a man went over to one, inserted money and used the various nobs and buttons on the control panel to direct a vicious looking mettle claw to pick up a stuffed bear. It seemed pretty simple. Ron watched as the man collected his bear and turned to a woman who must have been his girlfriend and handed her the bear. She smiled at him and gave him a sweet looking kiss.

It seemed like a very couplish thing to do Ron thought. He and Hermione were a couple now. Perhaps he should get her one? He dug in his pocket and pulled out the unfamiliar pound coin he had put there and stepped over to one of the machines. This one too contained bears. Bears of lots of different colours; Brown ones, yellow ones, blue ones, green ones, each wearing a small black t-shirt with the words Marina Pleasure Pier written across the front. He surveyed the bears. Which would Hermione like best? In the far right hand corner something caught his eye. It was a bear like all the others, only this one's fur had a slight hint of orange. A Weasley bear.

Now he stood looking at all the buttons it didn't look so easy. In fact he was confused. What did they all mean? He glanced around. No one was looking. He slyly slipped his wand out of his back pocket and whispered 'Acio.'

The little orange bear wiggled, freeing it's self from the huddled mass of bears and flew to a small window. Ron hastily put his wand away and reached through the window and picked up the bear just as Hermione appeared next to him clutching their pictures.

She loved the bear. And even as Hermione sat chatting to Harry, Ron and Ginny back in Ron's room at the burrow a few days later, it sat pride of place on her pillow. She loved that bear and she loved Ron, no matter how much Ginny had pretended to throw up at the sweetness of it all as she unpacked him.


End file.
